


Salt Circles

by BeezandBitches



Series: Kiss the Human Girl [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anathema is a stone cold bitch and i love her for it, Beelzebub is having deja vu, Beelzebub tries to seduce her let’s see how well that goes, Demon Summoning, Flashbacks, Gen, Lesbian Anathema, Light Angst, Temptation, mostly beelzebub’s pov, peppering of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-08-14 15:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20194252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeezandBitches/pseuds/BeezandBitches
Summary: Beelzebub was once the Head Consort of witches. Now they were Anathema’s problem. Or was she their problem?





	1. Always Answer a Summons

**Author's Note:**

> I just want Anathema to kiss the lesbians ok. Also if you want to follow my Good Omens tumblr it’s @BeezandBitches. Have a great day yall

Beelzebub was particularly fond of witches. Well, not so much ‘fond’ in the way that they’d sit down and chat about the latest hellish gossip over a cup of tea together. Instead, it was more of a business arrangement that included sending christmas cards to one another’s families, but in this case ancient, dark secrets and power replaced christmas cards. Beelzebub had always been the demon in question that witches over the centuries would try to either summon or communicate with in hopes of receiving powerful magic or guidance in their occult practices in exchange for damnation. Like a tutor, only with the dark arts. 

Though, due to the pesky witch hunts across Europe and the Americas in the 16th century, many of their favored lines had either died out or had renounced their practices. Sure, there was a handful of  _ real  _ witches out there still, they weren’t like any of these new age hipsters who just took the art and made it into a passing fad, but they were few and far between. Even then, they didn’t tend to invoke Beelzebub anymore.

That’s why it was surprising to get a summons from Tadfield of all places. The Antichrist’s home. Beelzebub nervously looked at the glowing sigil that resided a piece of ruined and ripped paper which had been sitting on the corner of their desk and hadn’t lit up in nearly 300 years. A best case scenario would be the Antichrist had finally come to their senses and summoned for Hell and Heaven to start the bloody war, but they were never that lucky. 

But still, a summons of any kind must be answered. That was infernal law. And, incase it was the Antichrist, Beelzebub would look their best. Can’t show up in a wrinkled suit or with sores and puss when you’re going to see your Lord’s heir, even if he had disowned Satan himself and aligned with those two blasted traitors. So, they tidied up their corporeal form to be presentable enough for mortal eyes. That was all that mattered, afterall. Before answering the summons, they pressed a red button on an ancient telephone.

“Dagon.” They said. “Pozztpone all my incoming meetingzz and paperwork. I’m being zzzummoned.”

“A summons? Been quite awhile since you got one of those.” A garbled voice came through the dusty speaker. It was Dagon, Lord of the Files and Beelzebub’s temporary secretary until Legion could send up another copy to fill in. Beelzebub had destroyed the last one to let off some steam. It hadn’t helped much, sadly. At least Dagon was a capable worker. “Fuck shit up, milord.” 

“Indeed.” Beelzebub said before releasing the button. They then took the paper in hand, closed their eyes, and started reciting something in demonic tongue. 

In a flash, Beelzebub was no longer in their office as the paper fluttered onto the desk, the glow fading slowly. 

—————

Traveling by sigil was a very different experience to traveling by simply rising up out of the ground. It was like shutting your eyes and becoming one with hellfire, if only for a moment. One could compare it to putting your hand over a candle for far too long. But, it was much faster than rising and involved far less dirt getting stuck in your corporeal form.

When Beelzebub opened their eyes again they saw they were in the living room of a small cottage. It was decorated with trinkets and knick knacks and crystals. Their eyes scanned quickly for any sign of who summoned them.

“Hey, over here.” They turned around quickly and saw Anathema Device standing there, an ancient grimoire in one hand and a candle in the other. “Hi.”

“Why have you zzzummoned me, mortal?” Beelzebub asked, their voice buzzing heavily as to assert dominance. This did nothing to faze Anathema. They blinked for a moment in realization. “Wait. You.” 

“Hi, Anathema Device, professional occultist and witch.”

“You were with those blazzted traitorzz at Armageddon!” Beelzebub snarled. Oh, this was the  _ last  _ thing they needed! They had so much paperwork to finish and so many complaints from the sixth circle to burn, they didn’t need one of  _ them  _ taking up their time, and with a proper sigil too!

“Oh, I remember you. You’re that demon with the big fly.” Anathema said as she motioned to her head.

“I am Beelzebub, Prince of Hell, Commander of the Infernal Armiezz, Champion of the Damned, and Head Conzzort of  _ real  _ witchezz! I do not have  _ time _ to be summoned by that traitor’zz lackey!” They were only getting more pissed by Anathema’s clear lack of fear, as she only snuffed out the candle and closed the grimoire. “I zzhould destroy you for even  _ attempting _ to zzummon me!” 

“Yeah, had a feeling whoever was gonna come through would say that. Look down.” Anathema said as she pointed to the floor. When Beelzebub looked down, they saw a line of salt encircling the pentagram they resided on. No getting in or out. 

“Bastard!” Beelzebub hissed. “Releazze me thizz inzztant!”

“I only need your help for a moment, hold your horses.” Anathema said as she walked out of the room for a minute. 

Beelzebub tried to push their way through the invisible force field that the salt kept up. It was like running right into glass, knocking them back into their ass.

“When I get out of this i’m going to evizzcerate you! This is demon-napping!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Anathema said as she brought a sachet of herbs soaked in rose water. “I need you to help enchant these herbs. I have a wellness tea to make for this lovely older lady down the road.” 

“And why zzhould I?” They asked.

“Because I summoned you. And demon law states that you must cater to a witch’s specific request, lest you be bound to me until you do.” Anathema said, tossing the sachet like a baseball to Beelzebub. “Uncle Crowley taught me that one.”

“Why izzn’t your ‘Uncle’ Crowley the one helping you then?” They grumbled. 

“He and Uncle Aziraphale are on their honeymoon. Hawaii is lovely this time of year, after all.” She said as she opened the grimoire to a different page. “Here we go. Well wishes and healing.”

“You do not expect me to actually do what you want, do you?” They asked. 

“If you’d rather stay in that circle, be my guest.” Anathema’s words were soaked in smug upper-handed pride. A little salt, really! This was embarrassing. 

“I’d zzooner be dizzcorporated.” Beelzebub spat, clutching the bag of herbs. “Fine. But after thizz  _ do not  _ zzummon me again, or else you’ll fazzze the wrath of Hell’s army on your front doorzztep.”

“Yeah, yeah, eternal damnation, I get the speech. Look, you don’t scare me.” Anathema said as she met Beelzebub’s icy glare. Her eyes only reflected back indifference. “I saw Satan himself be taken down by an 11-year-old boy who comes to my house because I have good candy and cryptic magazines. Plus, my new godfathers are immune to hellfire and holy water and would lose it if they found their goddaughter even slightly hurt by your lot.”

“You witch..” Beelzebub grumbled. She wasn’t wrong, because Beelzebub  _ was  _ mildly afraid of Crowley and Aziraphale at that point. All of Heaven and Hell were. That’s why they agreed to leave them alone. Nothing in that agreement extended to ‘godchildren’ they had, apparently!

“It’s my passion.” Anathema said. “In all seriousness, you can’t touch me. The salt is just a precaution.”

“You humanzz get more and more infuriating with every generation.” 

“Aw, thank you! Now about those herbs-“

“Fine!” Beelzebub said. They started to chant in a tongue that Anathema couldn’t understand. As the sachet started to glow a gentle green color, Anathema read the grimoire to ensure that it was right. Sure enough, it was.

“Here.” Beelzebub said, tossing the sachet back to Anathema. “May I go now?”

“Don’t you want my eternal soul or something? I know that’s what the book says demons take as payment.” Anathema said as she closed the book.

“Keep it. I don’t want your zzoul.” Beelzebub said. “I want to leave.”

“Fine, your loss.” She said as she flipped back to the summoning page. “Have fun in Hell, I guess.”

“If I could kill you, I would.”

“Figured. Bye. Might need your help later, we’ll see.”

———

With a few short words in ancient latin, Beelzebub returned to their office. They needed the strongest alcohol that any of the three realms had after that.

“Back already, milord?” Dagon asked as she walked in the room, files in hand. “How was it?”

“Terrible!” Beelzebub groaned as they reclined in their work chair. It was tattered computer desk chair that had awful back support. “Did you know that thozzze traitorzz have a witch in their party?” 

“Oh shit..” Dagon said as sympathetically as a demon could. “Were they that bad?”

“Zzhe wazz a right bitch, that’zz what zzzhe wazz.” Beelzebub complained. “Wazzn’t afraid of my wrath at all! Zzhe even trapped me in a zzzalt zzzircle! Can you believe that, Dagon? The indignity! All zzo I could enchant zzome herbzz.”

“Well,” She let a small, mangled chuckle slip past her fangs. “Least you didn’t have to ‘consort’ with that one.”

The word rang through Beelzebub’s mind for a second. Slowly, the dots started to connect. Then, the picture before them was clear. Their eyes went wide with realization.

“Dagon.” Beelzebub spoke. “You’re a geniuzz!”

“Oh, thank you milord, but why?”

“I need to fuck that witch.” Dagon nearly spilled all the papers she was holding onto the floor. “It’s the only way we’re going to figure out how thozzze two did it! So we can do it too!” 

“Milord, I support your efforts but tempting and seducing someone  _ so  _ close to them? Wouldn’t she be on high alert regarding you?” Dagon asked as Beelzebub grew a wicked smile and their swarm started to buzz louder.

“I am the conzzort of witches, Dagon. I know how weakly they fall. Zzzhe’ll break with enough time. Then, zzhe’ll be like putty in our handzz.”

“Should I keep your appointments postponed, then?”

“Yezz.” Beelzebub nodded. “Within due time, we may be able to be rid of thozzze two on top of everything.”

“Good luck, milord.” Dagon said, bowing once as they left. 

Beelzebub reclined in their chair, miracling a bottle of fine wine and a glass. As they poured it, they contemplated how  _ delicious  _ it was going to be when they could enact their revenge on Crowley and Aziraphale using a person that’s so close to them. It would be even more delicious considering how absolutely horrid that witch was. Now, it was just a waiting game.

Beelzebub, for all their worth, didn’t know what they were getting themselves into.


	2. Flesh, Blood, and Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beelzebub makes the first move, only to open an old wound.

It was three days before Anathema summoned Beelzebub again. Beelzebub had been forming their plan for that entire time. It was very simple, really. Gain the witch’s trust, seduce, get the secrets, and then kill her and the traitors. Really easy, been done a number of times. Beelzebub could do it in their sleep, with their eyes closed, arms tied behind their back. It was going to be the easiest thing they had done in the last millennia.

Or so they thought.

When Beelzebub opened their eyes again, they were back in Anathema’s cottage, still inside a salt circle. She was sitting on the ground, ruffling through a collection of crystals that had needed a good polishing.

“Oh, hey.” Anathema waved, as though the Prince of Hell had just walked into the house instead of being actively summoned.

“What do you need, mortal?” Beelzebub questioned. 

“It’ll be quick, swear.” Anathema said as she stood up.

“Zzwearing izz an afront to God, you know.” Beelzebub raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah, I grew up Catholic, I know the spiel.” Anathema said as she reached into her pocket and removed a folded paper. “I need instruction for this sigil. I know it can be used for either good luck or asking for misfortune on my enemies, but I don’t know which way it’s supposed to be written in context.”

She showed the sigil to Beelzebub. It was a sign they were familiar with, it was very popular with the Welsh witches during the 1200s. Their use for it tended to lean more on the malicious side, but a handful of them did use it for good. Which made Beelzebub want to vomit. _ Wishing well for others, granting them luck _? Disgusting. Absolutely repulsive. And that’s coming from someone from Hell.

“You write it sideways with four other sigils if you want it to be for misfortune.” Beelzebub answered.

“And for good luck?” Anathema asked.

“You want it to be for good luck?” Beelzebub asked. “Sounds hypocritical to witchcraft as a whole.”

“I may be bitchy to you, but that’s because we aren’t on the same side.” Anathema said.

”The oppozzite direction, then.”

“It’s for Adam. He’s worried about his speech project and wanted a good luck charm. So i’m gonna carve it into a crystal.” Anathema said

“The Antichrist needzz zzomething to calm hizzz _ nervezz _?” Beelzebub couldn’t really believe that. This was the King of The End Times and Lord of Destruction, after all.

“He’s only 12.” 

“He’zz the Antichrist!”

“Still only 12.” Anathema looked between two stones “I’m thinking carnelian or bloodstone, what do you think?”

“..Carnelian.” They said. “It boozztzz willpower.”

“Thanks.” Anathema said as she held up the stone to the light to get a better look. “Yeah this’ll be good.”

“Izz that all you need of me?” Beelzebub asked. 

“Why, wanna get to know the fabulous world of ‘Anathema Device, Witch’?” Anathema asked almost sarcastically. 

“Perhapzz.” They said, which only got them a weird look from Anathema. 

“Seriously?” Anathema asked again. “You spent the whole 20 minutes you were here last time saying you were ready to kill me.”

“And maybe I.. mizzjudged you. You are zztill a witch, after all.” Beelzebub had to play their cards right. Couldn’t look _ too _ eager to be on the witch’s good side. “And I am the official conzzort of witchezz. We can coexist, dezzpite your.. _ ‘family’” _ It left a weird, slimey, grotesque feeling in their mouth to imagine _ Crowley _ of all beings having a family. He was a demon! Demons didn’t do family, they barely did associates.

“Sounds super weird but you gotta swear to not kill me.” Anathema said. “I got a stash of Holy Water and I will use it.”

“Threatening a demon now?” Beelzebub smirked. Ballsy, not bad for a pathetic mortal. “That takezzz gutzz.” 

“Yeah, well, gotta have some when you’re working with Hell, right?” She shrugged casually. “Now, swear.”

“I zzwear. Let me out now, won’t you?” Beelzebub sighed, trying to make it appear as though they weren’t ready to kill her. 

“Mm..” Anathema looked them up and down for a few seconds. 

Now, she was no idiot. This was clearly a bad idea and she knew that. But, she had a vial of fake holy water in her pocket and kinda wanted to see what would happen, so she kicked the salt just enough to break the circle and lower the field keeping Beelzebub prisoner.

“Finally.” They sighed in relief and walked out of the summoning circle. 

“Be grateful and don’t kill me.” Anathema said as she walked to the kitchen. Beelzebub followed cautiously behind as they didn’t know where this girl kept her holy water.

“Zzo.. How do witchezz live in thizz zzentury?” Beelzebub questioned as they looked around for any sign of a cauldron. Any self respecting witch had one.

“Like any other person, except we have a lot more shiny rocks and herbs hanging from our windows.” Anathema said as she walked to a cupboard. “Want any tea? I’m gonna make some.”

“That would be.. adequate.” Beelzebub said. Tea then seduction. Really good way to spend an afternoon.

“Yes or no works too, man.” Anathema said as she set some water to boil.

“I am no man. I am a demon.” They snapped. Anathema only rolled her eyes. 

“It’s an expression.” She said. “So.. What do you want to know about me?”

“The general thingzz. Where did you learn your magic? Did you join a coven?” 

“Nope. I was homeschooled into the arts.” Anathema said “Old family trade. Ever heard of Agnes Nutter?”

Beelzebub’s eyes went wide with shock. Yes, they heard of Agnes Nutter. She was one of theirs. One of their favorites, too. She had called on them many times to learn their secrets. And this girl was her flesh and blood?

“Yezz. We knew each other.” Beelzebub nodded slowly. “Zzhe was a bright woman.” They said nothing more. Talking about her was like a dull bruise that never quite went away but you only felt it when you touched it.

“Well she’s my grandmother. Great-great-great-great-great grandmother to be specific.” Anathema said. “I studied her book since before I could walk and talk.”

“Her book?” They sounded actually surprised. “What book?”

“You.. You don’t know?” Anathema was thrown off by that response. Sure, Agnes Nutter wasn’t exactly famous but humans _ did _know about her. She was a prophet. You’d think Heaven and Hell would know about her too. “Her book of accurate prophecies. She wrote it before her death.”

“Zzhe.. never told me about that.” Beelzebub sounded almost hurt. Sure, it wasn’t exactly easy to hurt a Prince of Hell, Anathema wasn’t exactly sure you could, but that? It sounded like they had just walked in on a love affair. “What.. became of it?”

“I still have it, if you’d like to read it.” Anathema awkwardly offered, going to her kitchen table. “It’s kind of out-of-date now, as all the prophecies in it took place _ before _Armageddon, but..” She pulled an emerald green book from under a stack of papers that miraculously didn’t topple over. “Here.” She handed the book over to the Lord of the Flies who took it with quivering hands.

“Thank you.” Beelzebub said, trying so hard to not let their voice falter, they actually had thanked the witch. Anathema felt a little weird uncovering this strange connection between her ancestor and the demon who tried to murder her friend and threatened to murder her. What was worse was seeing how upset they seemed about not knowing this part of Agnes’s life.

The awkwardly growing silence in the room was cut by the hiss of a hot kettle. 

“Water’s ready. I’ll start the tea.” Anathema said, kind of excusing herself to the other side of the room.

Beelzebub stood there, silently tracing every word on the cover with their eyes. This was Agnes’s. It was really hers, it even said so right there. For Hell’s sake, how long had it been? 300 years now?

The faint buzz that was always in their ears seemed to get louder and louder as they tried to think about her. Agnes was a special witch, that was for certain, but a prophet? Why had she never..

“Here.” Anathema’s voice broke through the buzzing as she walked over to the table with two cups of tea. She set one down in front of Beelzebub as she sat opposite them.

Beelzebub’s eyes trailed up from the book to Anathema, who sipped at her own silver-rimmed cup. She was not the spitting-image of Agnes, not by a long shot, but she carried the same energy as her. The same poise. Her aura was even similar. They sat down across from her and sipped from the matching cup.

“You know,” Anathema said, looking up from her drink. “I never thought a Prince of Hell would be sentimental.”

“I’m not uzzually. Agnes wazz.. a rare case.” Beelzebub tried to avoid eye contact with Anathema. Why? They weren’t very sure themselves.

“Were you close?”

No demon was _ supposed _ to be close to a human. But, at the same time, humans weren’t _ supposed _ to summon demons. Both beings weren’t _ supposed _to be what Agnes and Beelzebub were once.

“..In a way, yezz.” Their grip on the book tightened. If they weren’t careful, they’d split the pages. 

Those pages would tell a story that Beelzebub was not sure they were ready to read. But it was one they’d need, nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beelzebub and Agnes have a PAST?? Yes. What kind? We’ll see.


	3. Pacts with the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agnes meets Beelzebub for the first time.

Anathema and Beelzebub had spent an hour sitting and sipping tea together in almost complete silence. There was an occasional question, but they mostly remained in their own thoughts. Beelzebub’s thoughts were clouded by buzzing and questions that no one could answer. No one alive could, at least.

But, they had a plan to execute. They had to focus. This wasn’t the time for this.

“Zzzo, Anathema.” Her name stuck to the top of Beelzebub’s mouth like a film. “Izz there any  _ particular  _ thingzzz you want out thizz partnerzzhip?” 

“Just spell checking.” She said bluntly. “Maybe the occasional translation or enchantment. I can handle the rest.” Beelzebub blinked in confusion. Surely she had to be joking?

“You have the powerzz of Hell at your dizzpozzal and you don’t wizzh to uzze them to their fullezzt?”

“I’m a very hands-on person.” Anathema shrugged. “Besides, I don't really have any ill-will for anyone.”

“Well, Hell izzzn’t completely bent on ruining otherzzz. That kind of power can help you gain a few boonzz.” They leaned forward across the table slightly. Sow the seeds of desire, let them sprout. “Money, power,” They made the final word flow like honey from their lips. “love..?”

“I’m already rich.” Anathema said as she got up and went to get a tin of biscuits. “I have no need for power.” She opened the bright blue tin and pulled a pink cookie from the inside. “And love’s not exactly my taste right now.”

A few words was all that was needed to incriminate a man. It was all Beelzebub needed to try and hook her. 

“What’zz going on in that department, exactly?” Demons were well versed in the art of tempting, not so much in the art of gossip. Anathema raised an eyebrow at them weirdly as she ate the cookie.

“My ex and I split because we weren’t compatible. Agnes had prophesied we would..” How to put it in a non-lewd way? “Help stop Armageddon together.” Beelzebub curled their fingers tightly at mention of Agnes again, but released just as quickly. 

“Ah yezzz. I believe I do remember a tall.. rather zzzquirrely male, with you.” Beelzebub said, unsure of how exactly how to phrase it without possibly angering Anathema. She didn’t take any offense, he did kinda look like a squirrel.

“Yeah, Newton.” Anathema said as she walked back over, popping another cookie into her mouth. “Sweet guy, really. But not my type.”

“Then.. what izz your type?” 

“Not a squirrel.” She joked. “I don’t know. That’s kinda the whole point of this” She motioned between herself and the air in front of her. “‘not dating’ thing. Figure myself out and all that jazz.”

“Any ideazz?” Beelzebub pressed.

“Why does it concern you?” Anathema questioned. “Last I checked I summoned a demonic tutor, not a matchmaker.”

“Oh pleazzze.” Beelzebub swatted their hand. “Like I would ever.”

“I’m only teasing.” Anathema said. “But you are awfully concerned about my love life.” She sipped her tea as Beelzebub watched. They had found a way into her, and they needed to go deeper. Literally and metaphorically.

“I have my reazzonzz.” Beelzebub stood from their chair and snatched a cookie from Anathema’s tin, never taking their eyes off her. Anathema could feel the ice in their.. soul? Did demons have souls? Whatever they had, it was like two frozen blades stabbed up right through her. 

“You’re a weird demon.”

“You only have experienzze with our rezzident traitor.” They inched closer to Anathema, who never moved. Beelzebub could, for lack of a better word, somewhat respect that. A scared witch was barely a witch at all. But still, her resolve against Lord Beelzebub was impressive, if not infuriating. Especially when they had to step on their tiptoes to get closer to her face. “Anything in the world could be yourzz. All you have to do..” They trailer their hand up her arm gently. “Is azzk.” The buzz on ‘ask’ seemed to ring out more than the other ones.

What they didn’t expect to happen was for Anathema to start laughing. Right in their face.

“Oh man. You almost had me there for a second.” Anathema wiped away a tear that just started to form. “Look, I get the whole schtick. Temptation and all. But in honesty, all I need is a tutor. I’ll still give you my soul when it’s all over. But you don’t need to do the theatrics. I understand the weight of my choice.” She took Beelzebub’s hands in hers, they were much warmer than the prince’s, and smiled. It wasn’t so much a pleasant smile as it was peppered with smugness along the edges of it. “It’ll be the easiest job you’ve had in decades.”

Beelzebub blinked once, twice, thrice, trying to make sense of the sight before them. And of the sensation of holding a human’s hands. Demon hands were all cold, so they jumped slightly at the touch.

“You’re zzertain?” They choked out. 

“Positive.” Anathema nodded, letting go of their hands. “I have to go, I got errands to run. But you’re welcome to stay and read Agnes’ book if you’d like. Just don’t do anything freaky or go in my room.” 

“Right..” Beelzebub watched as Anathema put down the tin, got her purse, waved goodbye, and left like it was nothing. 

They put a hand over their heart, which they only indulged in having every couple weeks, and felt it quicken. Strange. She must’ve psyched them out. 

“Blazzted witch..” Beelzebub sighed as they looked down at the book again and swallowed hard. They had a job to do. They couldn’t get distracted. But even still.. 

—————

The first time Agnes Nutter and Beelzebub met was when the girl was 18 years old. She had been studying witchcraft in secret from her mother and brothers for about a year at that point. 

She had known the future for two years at that point too, but she did not wish to share it with anyone. She feared, no,  _ knew _ she’d be tried as a witch one day. She knew every moment leading up to her demise and every moment after. It frightened her, as she was just a girl. Barely an adult by any means. The only decision she chose to make that really affected her was to not make liars of those who would condemn her. So, she became a witch. 

She wasn’t exactly good at it, at first. No potions would want to work or crystals have the boons she tried to cast onto them. She couldn’t even make a proper wellness herbal tea when her youngest brother got a cold. She needed help, and so she summoned Lord Beelzebub.

“Who zzzummonzz me, Lord of the Fliezz, Mazzter of Witchcraft, and Mezzzenger of Lord Satan?” Their eyes scanned the small field clearing in which Agnes had summoned them. Agnes already knew who they were. Beelzebub would one day be her greatest friend and her descendant’s greatest challenge besides Armageddon itself. But this was only the start of it all. They had a long way to go before they got there.

“I have, your lordship.” Agnes curtsied as though she was meeting a rich man’s son. No fear in her movements, only regard. “I come to thee askin’ for a teacher.” 

“Zzpeak your name, child.” Beelzebub boomed with the dignity that came with their title.

“Agnes Nutter. Daughter of no witch nor warlock. But a student of the arts, nonetheless.” Her eyes swirled with something Beelzebub hadn’t seen in a long time. Real passion.

“You know that meanzz your magic be weaker than otherzz.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes, milord. Witchery is m’ calling.” Agnes clutched at her chest. “I beg of you.” 

“You mortalzz and your blazzted belief in yourzzelves.” Beelzebub shook their head and put out their hand. “Alright. Know the rizzk you take, Nutter.” Agnes did not hesitate before shaking Beelzebub’s hand. 

In a bright flash of light, their pact had begun.

“I believe we’ll get along just fine, Lord Beelzebub.” Agnes smiled. Her smile only made Beelzebub look confused. Did she not fear them?

“Thizz izz purely buzzinezzz.” They said. “Now, letzz begin.”

“Of course.” Agnes said. 

That first lesson would be the start of something new.


	4. Demand and You Shall Recieve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beelzebub goes snooping and finds something from the past.

Beelzebub thumbed through the pages of Agnes’ book slowly and read a few pages. Some prophecies, they didn’t quite understand. The ones they could were spot on. The Four Horsepeople’s ride, the end of Armageddon, even mention of the Antichrist’s blasted hell hound. Agnes really did know the future, and yet never shared that with them. It left Beelzebub’s mouth with a sour taste. 

“Agnes..” They muttered before shutting the book and letting out a deep sigh. Their very core felt like it had been smashed in by a hammer, but they never would dare to admit it. She was only a human. Humans can’t hurt demons. That was just how it was. But, if that was true, then why did it sting to think of her again?

Beelzebub rose from the kitchen counter they sat on and walked around the house slowly, looking around, trying to gather any information on Anathema they could. They needed to find her weakness if they were going to be able to gain her trust. Rather ironic if you think about it.

They stalked through her kitchen cabinets and crevices of her living room. There had to be answers in the midst of her snowglobes and family photos. Thank Hell that demons were more organized than angels, because if not then the house would look like it had been hit by a tornado. 

“Nothing.” Beelzebub hissed. For someone who wears her boldness on her sleeve, Anathema seemed almost  _ too _ normal from the lack of secrets around. Witches weren’t normally so discreet.

Their eyes peered to a closed off room that could’ve only been the master bedroom. Anathema had specifically said to not go in there,  _ but  _ she was neither the boss of them nor were they meant to listen to her every word unless it was directly related to her lessons. So, in true demonic fashion, they did what they wanted to do instead of listening to others and went inside.

Anathema’s room was the tornado sight that should’ve been her living room. Papers were thrown about along the floor and spread across her work desk. A cork board hung on the wall with endless pieces of red string connecting to who-knows-what point. Her bed was half made with some of the sheets crumpled and barely rearranged. On it sat an arrangement of wild herbs tied with twine, a  _ Lotería _ card- specifically ‘La Sirena’ -a set of tarot cards poking slightly out of their box, and a small, gently used candle.

“And I wazz going to judge her for not being witchy enough.” Beelzebub muttered as they went up to the bed. “Muzzt’ve tried a reading.”

They picked up the tarot set and shuffled through the cards a bit, as though it was going to reveal anything. Clearly, that’s not how tarots worked but it helped them think. Seeking the wisdom of the cards could mean a plethora of things but just from how everything was arranged, it could be assumed that Anathema had tried a reading that morning before summoning Beelzebub. Curious..

If Beelzebub knew anything about humans, they knew they tended to either keep their most personal treasures close to them at all times (in the case of children or gold) or keep them hidden in their most secure location. Wherever they felt the safest. What was safer than the place they slept? Probably a lot of places, but it was the feeling that counted.

Beelzebub laid down on the carpet and tried to find anything hidden underneath the bed. There was a dented bell, a broken silver wand, and a dark brown box complete with a big copper lock, all of which were covered in a thin layer of dust. Witches weren’t exactly known for their cleanliness. 

“Perfect.” They smirked as they pulled the box from under the bed. 

The lock was shut tight and there was no sign of a key, but Beelzebub was a demon. They didn’t  _ need _ a key. They simply growled at the lock, threatening it until it quivered and opened without much resistance.

Popping the ancient-looking box open made the dust go everywhere, floating into the air and fall gently over the newly discovered a thin stack of paperwork inside. Beelzebub pulled out a couple of the sheets and looked over them. There were words scribbled haphazardly all over it in long-faded ink, rips and burn marks decorating them as well. 

They could recognize that handwriting anywhere, though. 

As Beelzebub scanned through the words, they realized what these were. For Satan’s sake, she had preserved these? This one even still had the wax at the edges..

———

“We’ll begin with a zzzimple candle zzzpell.” Beelzebub said, walking behind Agnes Nutter who sat at a makeshift altar made from a cut down stump in the woods. The cover of night was the perfect time for witches to roam free in the streets, but Beelzebub wanted her to learn discipline first. “Take the zzzigilzz you’ve written out and light a candle over the zzenter one, let the wax burn it azzz you rezzite the zzpell.”

“Of course.” Agnes said as she did as instructed. One tall red candle was in her hand, a piece of flint and a rough stone in the other. 

She carefully aligned the candle on the parchment as she struck a spark over the wick. It would not light for a solid, embarrassing minute as Beelzebub watched, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed at Agnes’ attempts. Agnes sheepishly smiled at the Lord of the Flies, which only got her a harsher stare, as she continued to not be able to light the damn thing.

“Please, bastard candle..” Agnes muttered under her breath, hoping Beelzebub hadn’t heard her. They did, their lips cracking out of its frown for half a second at the ends. Agnes knew she was meant to fail this first spell, she had seen so before even stepping into the woods that night, but that didn’t mean she knew how moritfyingly incompetent it would make her look infront of a demon prince. What a great first impression for the one who would be your best friend.

Finally, the sparks hit the wick enough to keep a fire burning. Agnes was ready to jump for joy, but she had to keep focused. Every move she made was important, as it could affect the future. Maybe. She didn’t know yet how much of fate God had set in stone. 

“Finally. Now, the zzpell.” Beelzebub said “Have hazzte, the candle burnzz quickly.” 

Agnes turned to her notes, all of which were disorganized and messy, scribbled all over the place as if she was desperate to fill every inch of it. Beelzebub watched as the witch-in-training shuffled through them, the candle’s hot wax dripping all over the sigils thanks to how long it was taking her.

“Hurry.” They snapped. Agnes looked up her notes and gulped, before quickly trying to find the right page again.

“I know it’s here somewhere.” She said. Her eyes flashed past the beginning of the correct spell as she pushed a paper to the back. “Aha!” 

She pulled one paper out rather violently, only to hit the candle over. And well, you know how easily wood likes to catch ablaze. In less than an instant, the stump was burning bright and Agnes, poor clumsy Agnes, tried to scramble away before her dress caught on fire. 

Beelzebub only pinched the bridge of their nose with one hand, let out a deep, annoyed sigh, and clenched their other hand into a fist, extinguishing the fire in the blink of an eye.

“Thizz izz a wazzte of my time.” They said, shooting Agnes a look of disapproval. “You’re dizzzorganizzed, flighty, a klutzz.” Agnes climbed to her feet and stood before the prince.

“I am a witch.” She said. “Perhaps not a great one, not yet, but I will be. I know it.” She did know it, truly. “I only need you to be patient. I can prove my worth.”

“You demand patienzzze of me? A Lord of Hell?” Beelzebub was offended that she wasn’t groveling, begging for forgiveness. Instead she stood tall, acting as though they were equal. It didn’t help that she was taller than them, Beelzebub always was annoyed when someone was taller. That bitch of an archangel tended to make fun of their height choice. “Who do you think you are, mortal?” Their buzz was heavy, their temper boiling.

“I am Agnes Nutter.” She said smoothly. “And if I must demand your patience, I will.”

Having nerve was a human trait that the forces of Hell and Heaven never took too kindly too. No matter where you stood in either plane, you did as you were meant to, no trying to bark your way up the corporate ladder. Attempts were punished, especially in Hell. The princes didn’t like interlopers. So being summoned by a bratty human girl with too much nerve and too little skill shouldn’t grate well on Beelzebub’s temper.

However, perhaps it was the hand of fate or perhaps it was the sheer shock of it actually happening, but Beelzebub blinked, silencing themselves, and stared at her. 

“I don’t fear you. And I never will.” Agnes’s words were no lie. She knew the future after all. She sat back down by the ashy stump which still held the original sigil parchment, only it was partially burned and ripped, with drying wax over it. “Shall we try again?”

“..We Zzhall.” Beelzebub coughed. “Don’t mess up again.”

“I won’t.” Agnes answered. 

That time, she did succeed. Just like she knew she would.

————

“Why must she taunt me like this?” Beelzebub grumbled lowly, shutting the box closed and shoving it back under the bed, only keeping a handful of papers. They held them tight, close to their heart. “Haven’t I suffered enough?”

“You.”

Beelzebub jumped, not having heard someone enter the house while they were sitting there, lost in old memories like a ship lost at sea. They turned their head to see one Adam Young, Antichrist standing in the doorway of Anathema’s bedroom staring right at them. Or perhaps staring through them? Beelzebub couldn’t tell.

“My lord.” Beelzebub stood quickly and bowed, trying to keep up appearances, just in case. Not sure how well that would work considering the context.

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your lord. My name’s Adam.” Adam said, walking inside. “What’re you doing in Anathema’s house?”

“Zzhe zzummoned me. Azz a tutor.” They had to convince them they meant no harm. If she was aligned with the traitors, so was the Antichrist.

“You teach math or somethin’?” He asked. “Didn’t know Ana was still in school.”

“No.. Azz a witch’zzz tutor.” Beelzebub said. “To underzztand the dark artzz.”

“That sounds more like her.” Adam nodded. “Then why are you going through her things?”

“Thezze  _ aren’t  _ herzz.” Beelzebub hissed. “They’re.. They’re Agnes’zz work.”

“Agnes Nutter left them to Ana, so they’re hers.” Adam said. “And I know she doesn’t like others in her things.”

“Then why are you here?” They huffed.

“I came to pick up the stone Anathema said she was making for me.” Adam walked over to Beelzebub who stood up from the ground. The kid and them were almost the same height, Beelzebub’s head only being a smidge taller. 

“Ah, yezz. That’zz what zzhe zzzummoned me for.” Beelzebub said. “Here, i’ll finizzh it azz long azz you don’t zzay a word about what you zzzaw.”

“And why should you trust me?” Adam asked, rocking back and forth on his heels. “I could still spill to Anathema what you were doing in here.”

“I mean no harm to her.” A lie. “I only wizzh to find anzzwerzz.” They looked at the stack of papers in their hands and a lightbulb went off in their mind. “Agnes wazz my.. my friend. My very bezzt friend. But she never told me about her future zzight. I juzzt want to know why.”

Adam frowned, trying to get a sense of Beelzebub’s intent. Something about the way they moved, and said each word, seemed almost believable. 

“It hurtzzz.. Lozzing her.” Beelzebub muttered. That may have been the first truth they told him. “It hurtzzz more knowing zzhe kept a zzecret like thizz from me.”

“...Ok.” Adam nodded. “But swear to me you won’t hurt Anathema. And i’ll know if you lie.” Beelzebub had a hard time believing that one.

“I zzwear.”

“Good.”

The two walked out of the room, closing the bedroom door as if nothing had happened there. 

One carved carnelian later, Adam left the cottage, hoping he made the right choice. Beelzebub sat on the couch, looking through the old notes once more. There was a reason Agnes left  _ those _ to her blasted descendant.


	5. La Vie en Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anathema and Beelzebub edge closer in their little game.

For two weeks Beelzebub had been residing inside the Device Residence, acting as a live-in tutor for Anathema. She had insisted it was fine if they wished to return to Hell, but Beelzebub would tell her it was fine, it wasn’t like they needed a place to sleep. Anathema, damn her for her latinx hospitality genes, set them out a bed on the couch anyway. Beelzebub wouldn’t sleep much, as the night was dedicated to either trying to come up with their plan to definitely  _ finally _ break Anathema the next day and get all the information they need out of her  _ or  _ they spent the night reading through Agnes’ old study notes trying to decipher them like it was a code. It was a pretty full schedule.

“Mornin, Beelz.” Anathema greeted as she walked out of her room, half asleep and with no glasses on. Beelzebub peered up from Agnes’ book. They weren’t one for nicknames. Not from just anyone, after all.

“Anathema. I take it you zzlept well?” They asked, closing the book and following her to the kitchen where she made a pot of coffee.

“Like a rock.” She yawned. The bottom of her sleep shirt rode up ever so slightly as she stretched her arms up and behind her head. “Did you do any sleeping?”

“No, I didn’t.” They answered. “Any particularly witchy planzz for today?”

“Workin’ in the garden mostly. I gotta trim the bushes before the full moon or else.” Anathema didn’t elaborate on what ‘or else’ meant, but Beelzebub just nodded.

“Are you in need of.. azziztanze?” They asked, leaning over the table to get closer to Anathema. How she managed to ignore their wiles so long was beyond them. Normally a witch would break quickly, as this  _ was _ their demonic consort. But, then again, it was  _ Beelzebub _ who thought themself wiley. Perhaps other witches were just weak to power. Anathema? Anathema already  _ had  _ power.

“You can help me by bringing in the flowers, if you want. I’m gonna try to make a tea with them later.” Anathema said as she poured a cup of coffee. “Here, the way you like it.”

Anathema handed the demon the cup and they couldn’t help but smile slightly. Beelzebub was a demon of Gluttony, so human food was always a treat. Black coffee was one of their favorites, so dark and bitter. It was positively sinful. Normally, sweets were their indulgence, but black coffee took center stage whenever it was available.

Anathema watched the demon who drank the coffee as if it were ambrosia. She could’ve sworn she heard them buzz slightly, just like how a kitten would purr. She didn’t mention it though, sure enough it would make them rather embarrassed and it was too early for a long winded rant about how fearsome they were. She sipped at her own cup and let out a deep, relieved sigh. Much better. 

“I’ll go get ready and meet you outside in about.. 20 minutes?” Anathema said.

“That’ll do.” Beelzebub nodded as Anathema went back to her room, coffee in hand, the demon’s eyes following her the entire way. 

Today would be the day, they told themself. This had gone on long enough. But, then again, they told themselves that everyday.

———

Anathema knelt down beside her bushes and started to prune and trim away at any dead leaves and wayward branches. This bush had been a gift from Madame Tracy. She told Anathema it would help make her healing rituals more powerful if she burnt the branches along with a paste made from the petals. Or she could make a lovely floral tea with the flowers instead, whatever suited her fancy.

Beelzebub watched her quietly as she worked at the plant with care and poise. Each branch with a flower she’d pass to Beelzebub, telling them to just cut the buds off and pluck each petal. Simple, continuous work. Wasn’t much different than doing paperwork in Hell, except for every bit of the surroundings being well lit and it didn’t smell of sulfur and despair.

Anathema had a very fine air around her that day that Beelzebub couldn’t quite name. Maybe she had done a spell before walking outside? No, no, Beelzebub would’ve been able to sense that. Any charms on her? From the looks of her attire, which Beelzebub noticed was a new outfit, there didn’t seem to be any charms or pendants or anything on Anathema’s person. Sigils weren't out of the question but any bit of skin that the lord of the flies could see- hands, face, and even Anathema’s star-marked shoulders that were shown off by her new top, were bare. This didn’t stop their eyes from continuing to trail to Anathema’s shoulders, though. It was as if the night sky had been ripped from Heaven and worn as a shawl around her. They complimented the freckles that decorated her face. Beelzebub had spent too much time looking at her, studying her.

They say the smallest gestures at the perfect time can cause the biggest reactions. In this case, the sun seemed to hit just right as Anathema wiped her forehead then tucked a faint piece of stray hair behind her ear. It was a simple thing, really. But, for whatever reason, Beelzebub’s heart skipped a beat. They felt the thumping in their chest, the sound of it competed with the buzzing of their flies for their attention. The bounce of her curls taunted Beelzebub, who felt the slightest urge to run their hands through her hair and feel every little wave of it. 

It took a minute to snap out of it, but when they did they were ready to smack themselves. She’s not meant to be the tempter here! That was their job! 

“Hellooo?” Anathema said as she waved a hand in front of Beelzebub’s glassy eyes. “Earth to your highness?” 

“Don’t do that!” Beelzebub hissed as they swatted her hand away. “I wazz juzzt in thought. Thinking of a dazzztardly way to uzze the budzz.”

“Well it’s not the devil’s lettuce, so smoking it’s out of the question.” Anathema said as she stood up. “C’mon, I'll help you carry in the flowers. The basket must be heavy.”

Beelzebub sprang to their feet, still a little embarrassed from being caught, dare they say, daydreaming. They then used all of their internal power to lift the large, nearly spilling-over-the-sides basket of buds and petals with one arm, balancing it on their shoulder. They walked inside, not another word spoken except for a couple inaudible grumbles.

Anathema watched them go, arms crossed and a slight, amused smirk on her face as she followed them in. She could get used to seeing them so flustered.

———

Beelzebub had always had a special place in their heart for the moon. It’s light was less harsh than the sun, but not as weak as the lights of Hell. It washed over them like a familiar blanket of peace. It was hard to find any peace as someone in charge of Hell’s affairs. So once a month, they’d rise up and sit in the nearest clearing to let the full moon take them in its gentle arms for the night. 

One windy night, Beelzebub hugged their knees to their chest, eyes closed, up on a hill and listened to every little whistle on the breeze. It’s what they imagined Eden to be like, as they never got the honor of seeing it for themselves. The fluttery silence was broken by the rustle of grass and a pair of footsteps.

“Beelzebub.” the familiar voice of their longest pupil called out. Agnes Nutter walked up beside them, kneeling down at their side. “Sorry to intrude.”

“And yet you zztill do.” Beelzebub said as they opened one eye and looked over at Agnes. They had been working together for about five years. That had been the longest that Beelzebub had ever spent with a human. A few rumors had spread around Hell that this must be the most powerful witch to ever be if Beelzebub had spent so long teaching her. Most witches would die of hubris or madness as soon as Beelzebub completed their deals. Agnes, however, knew that wouldn’t be her fate. Her fate would come in about three decades, in a blaze the world had never seen before. But for now, she was here beside her teacher.

“I came to thank you.” Agnes said. “The herbal enchantment you taught me did wonders for my.. friend.” 

“That boy you’ve been zzeeing, I prezzume?” Beelzebub asked in a way that hadn’t any spite behind it. In fact, if you didn’t know any better, you’d assume it was almost playful. But, Beelzebub was a demon. They weren’t playful, not with anyone but Agnes.

“We’re only friends, Beelzebub.” Agnes shoved the prince’s shoulder. If she was anyone else, that would’ve got her killed.

“You humanzz and your terrible lying. Or maybe that’zz just you?” Agnes let out a hearty laugh. “I’ve zzeen how he lookzz at you. Like a dope.”

“He’s a cute dope.” She said. “I do like him. He’s a good man.”

“If he makezz you happy, chazze him.” Beelzebub said, nodding slowly. “You’re a witch. He can’t outrun you.” Giving romantic advice wasn’t exactly a demon’s strong suit.

“I don’t know if I want him to know about that side of me. Not yet at least.” That earned Agnes a stare full of judgement. 

“Nothin’ to be ashamed of, Agnes. Your power makezz you zztrong. Zztronger than any other mortal in your wretched little village.”

“I'm not ashamed. Besides, I like my ‘wretched little village’.”

“The people are all zzo denzze.” Beelzebub shook their head. Agnes leaned against them the slightest bit. “You’re the only one with a brain.”

“I’m not flighty or a klutz, eh?” She joked.

“No, you are. Zzayzz a lot, doezzn’t it?” They chuckled. 

They sat together for a while, letting the wind rustle around them. This was closer than any human and demon had ever been. Under the same moon, on the same hill, laughing in the same breath. And yet, for how close they were, Agnes wanted nothing more than to let them know the future. Their future. How it would all end. But, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“Beelzebub, be honest with me.” Agnes said. “Do you think of me as a good witch?”

“Of courzze.” They nodded. It was true. She had improved quite a lot in the years they spent together. “You have the bezzt teacher.”

“Remember, Demon of Gluttony, not Pride.” Agnes jokingly chided them. “All I want is to be the best me I can be. Leave a mark on this world.”

“Humanzz all want that. But you..” Beelzebub patted Agnes’s hand in a comforting way. “You could do it, if you put your mind to it.”

“Maybe I’ll write a book.” Agnes said. “Publish it for all to see.”

“Dizzcuzzing witchcraft getzz you set to hang. Or worzze. I’ve heard from Hastur that burning izz popular theze dayzz.” Beelzebub shook their head. Agnes knew that would be her fate before they even started the fires of witch hunts.

“What about having nothing to be ashamed of?” She asked. 

“Don’t be azzhamed of it. But don’t be zztupid either. You’re the only human I’d pity if you died.” This was Beelzebub’s way of saying they were friends. “You can leave a mark without dying, I’m zure.”

“I hope so.” Agnes lied. The moon stayed watching over them. It’s light gave them a bit of comfort. Things like fire and death wouldn’t be of concern for now.

———

The full moon was Beelzebub’s one comfort. Even here with Anathema, they missed the light of the moon. But, luckily, the full moon was here. There were no clearings to lounge in in Tadfield, but the cottage’s roof was just as good. 

They climbed up to the top of the roof, sitting in silence as they let the moonlight blanket them. There was no wind that night. Only them. Only the gentle reminders and the lingering touch of feelings from that day. Why had they stared at Anathema for so long? Didn’t matter. Didn’t matter one bit. So stop thinking about it! 

Beelzebub buried their face into their hands and groaned. This task was taking so damn long and they’ve made no progress! She wasn't even tempted. If anything, it looked more like she was tempting them. Beelzebub! Prince of Hell! Lord of the Flies! Tempted by a human! They’d be the laughing stock of Hell if that got out!

“I need to juzzt- hurry the fuck up.” They muttered under their breath. “Zzeal the deal, get the info, and kill her before..” Before they caught feelings. “Before  _ they _ zzzhow back up.”

Their threats and promises fell flat on the ears of the sky, as the moon had more important things to do than listen to Beelzebub’s petty revenge plot. Like shine it’s light on Beelzebub’s petty revenge plot piece, better known as Anathema Device. 

She wore a light, floaty nightgown that felt like it belonged to a ghost. She sat on the bench beside her rose bushes, where Beelzebub had a perfect view of her, even when they ducked down so she couldn’t see them.

“What the heaven..?” They muttered, trying to get a good look. “What izz zzhe doing out here at thizz hour?”

Beelzebub’s question was answered by the faint distant sounds of Anathema’s voice. She was singing, not very loudly, but singing nonetheless. 

The Prince of Hell couldn't make out exactly what she was singing, so they scaled down the house as quietly as they could, in an attempt to get closer. They watched as she combed her fingers through her hair, eyes shut, as she sang.

“ _ Ojos que hacen bajar los míos, una sonrisa que se pierde sobre su boca,”  _ Spanish, huh? Beelzebub didn’t know the language, but they could tell what a language was just by hearing it. Perks of being a demon. “ _ He aquí el retrato sin retoque del hombre a quien pertenezco _ ” Anathema did have a nice voice, they’d admit. Soft and calming. “ _ Cuando me toma en sus brazos, me habla bajito, veo la vida en rosa.”  _

Her tune started to lull the demon. With every gentle note, their eyes seemed to flutter. A siren’s song was a powerful tool for a witch, even more powerful when it attracts those it wasn’t meant to. 

But, Anathema knew Beelzebub was there. She had seen them on the roof. She  _ was  _ going to confront them, naturally. It is a bit rude to intrude on one’s nightly ‘I can’t sleep’ concert, but for some reason she felt ok about them hearing her. Maybe it was because she didn’t get to sing for others often, even if they were hiding behind her gardening shed. Especially when they were seemingly falling asleep due to her tunes.

It was weird to admit, but she liked having them around. The company was nice. They were cute too, especially when flustered. Anathema liked them, probably more than she should. She had a feeling that, deep in their hellish little soul, they may just like her too. Like a game of chess with hearts and feelings.

She wondered which of them would break first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I haven’t updated this in a hot minute! I hope y’all enjoy, and if you do please leave some love down below. Also, follow me on tumblr @BeezandBitches. Have a lovely day.


	6. How’s a Date Sound?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game was finally starting to get played right. Beelzebub is conflicted.

Agnes met with Beelzebub the night before the winter solstice. The night before her wedding. 

That young man from the village had  _ finally  _ popped the question, three years after Agnes practically swept him off his feet one day and started their courtship on her own accord. She had already knew they’d be married long before that, but the actual experience of their relationship was something she’d never trade for anything. They were happy together. Agnes intended to keep it that way for as long as she could. But, before she put her witchery behind a veil for some years, there was one more thing she needed to do.

“Beelz!” Agnes chimed as she ran up to hug her best friend, The Prince of Hell. She threw her arms around the much shorter demon and couldn’t resist letting out giggles as if she was only a school girl. But she wasn’t, she was 26 by now. Oh, how time did fly. “Oh, I’m so excited! By this time tomorrow I'll be a married woman.”

“Congratulationzz, Agnes.” Beelzebub patted her back, a faint smile on the corners of their lips. “It makezz me proud to zzee my finezzt pupil zzhining zzo brightly. But, I muzzt azzk..” The two pulled away, Beelzebub taking Agnes’s hands in theirs. “Why did you zzummon me now? Zzhouldn’t you be with your mother?” Beelzebub never really understood human families, but Agnes had told them many things about her mother and brothers that made them out to be important enough to remember. But, then again, Beelzebub never forgot anything Agnes had told them.

“I want you to be there.” She said. “At my wedding.” Beelzebub blinked in confusion.

“Why me?”

“You’re my best friend, Beelzebub. You’ve taught me and helped me grow.”  _ You’ve helped me find some comfort in the ineffable inevitable. _ “I wouldn’t be where I am today without you.”

“Clearly, you would’ve zzet fire to the whole woodzz without me.” Beelzebub chuckled. “But, at your wedding? With.. other humanzz?” 

“I know it’s a bit of a strange request, but if I remember right, Infernal Law states-“ Curse them for teaching her demonic rules. There weren’t many, but they must be followed. 

“Yezz, yezz, I know. I’ll be there.” Beelzebub assured her.

Agnes smiled, her lips tightening as her eyes shut, a long exhale coming out of her nose. She wanted to hold back the tears that she felt welling in her eyes. Beelzebub would come, no doubt in that. But after every special moment they spent together, the closer they got to the inevitable. Agnes felt it in every fiber of her being. Her bones already heavy from the weight of the roofing nails she’d have to trek to her sight of execution. The smell of gunpowder made her sick by now. But, soon, that’s all that would be left of her.

“Are you alright?” Agnes snapped her brown eyes open, only to see meet Beelzebub’s blue ones, swirls of worry in them. She hadn’t noticed she was crying.

“Just.. Just happy tears, Beelz.” Agnes sniffled as she wiped her eyes. She hated lying to them, but she knew by now that she just didn’t have the heart to tell the truth. 

Beelzebub’s hand touched the witch’s cheek, wiping away a few stray tears. Their hands were cold, inhumanely so, but Agnes stayed there, never flinching.

“I’m proud of you, alwayzz know that.” Their voice broke through a gentle grin, filled with a kind of fond warmness that was totally unbecoming of a demon, let alone a prince, to say the  _ very _ least. But, that didn’t matter right now. They were with their friend, after all. “You’ve been a fine zztudent, and you’ll be an even finer bride.”

“..Thank you.”

Agnes only wished to let them know  _ any _ of the boundless wisdom she had. About the future, about Armageddon, about their role in it all.. But, instead, she turned to a leather-bound journal where she would write the drafts of a very, very important book. Her mark on the world.

———

Anathema tilted Agnes’s book down, just enough for it to be out of Beelzebub’s sight as their eyes trailed up to meet hers. They were currently sitting criss-cross on her living room couch, reading the outdated book of prophecies for quite possibly the 100th time.

“Hey, Beelz.” She said. “Wanna go with me to get food?”

“Juzzt becauzze I am your tutor doezz not mean I’m your lackey-“ Beelzebub was about to hiss venom, thinking the witch wanted them to join her on an errand, only for her to wave away that notion with her free hand and shake her head.

“No, no, not like that. Do you want to go get food, with me? Casually.”

That’s when the lightbulb went off in Beelzebub’s head. Oh.  _ Oh.  _ This is a date. A  _ date _ . Oh their plan had been working all along! Of course it had, they weren’t head consort of witches for nothing, after all. The thought practically made them, Satan forgive for use of such a flowery word but,  _ giddy.  _ This was almost over, they could get this finished and  _ finally _ seduce her properly! 

...And get the intel needed, of course. Top priority, that. Definitely.

Beelzebub rose from the couch and fixed their rumpled shirt collar, less regally than they hoped but Anathema wouldn’t care, it still looked a little silly. 

“I zzuppozze that would be fine.” They said. “What time?”

“How’s right now?”

_ Oh,  _ they were doing this  _ now _ .

“..That can be arranged.”

“Cool, give me like.. five minutes and i’ll be ready to go.” Anathema said as she walked to her room.

The click of her door knob was a signal in Beelzebub’s mind for their face to turn bright pink and let Agnes’s book drop to the ground. They were totally still, aside from their slowly blinking eyes, putting together everything that just happened. They got asked out. Things were going  _ well _ . Their plan was  _ working _ . 

Their eyes flashed with a new brightness in them. They still had game. They were still in it. This wasn’t for nothing. They could weasel all those little secrets hidden in Anathema’s pretty little head from her soft-looking lips and then be done with those two traitors and Anathema- 

Oh.

Oh right.

They were gonna kill her, after everything. That was the plan. How- how could they forget?

...It was funny, really.

Agnes never told Beelzebub her biggest secret, and here they were a few centuries later. Pulling the cord for Anathema to spill the secrets that would be her downfall. It was positively demonic, really. 

Then why.. 

Why did it hurt to think of it?

Beelzebub shook their head. No. This wasn’t the time to be so.. so  _ weak _ . They had been weak before and look where it got them. No goodbyes, no answers, not even a reason. Humans are a dime a dozen. They’re born, they exist, then they die. No use getting hung up on and hurt by them. That’s what they told themselves whenever that gnawing feeling returned. Another part of them, however, would know that this was different than just any ordinary human. First Agnes, now Anathema. A cursed bloodline.

Maybe  _ She  _ was still trying to punish them, all these millennia later. It’d make some sense. Two of Her favorites becoming two of their problems.

No time to dwell, as Anathema came out her bedroom door, bag in hand and glasses on her face.

“Ok, let’s go.” Anathema said, heading to the front door. Beelzebub followed behind.

“Where are we going, exactly?”

“Feel like getting chinese?”

“That’ll do.”

The two walked out of the cottage together, hands brushing on the way out, pieces finally falling into place. Now it was a game of who ended up on top first.


End file.
